


A Rally Toward Exalted Moments

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-09
Updated: 2008-08-09
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:52:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Sometimes a person needs to get outside of their usual geography — both physical and emotional — to be able to see the possibility of new lands of the heart.





	A Rally Toward Exalted Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for iamshadow for the inaugural Wealsey_fest on LJ; Title slightly modified from a quotation by Rainer Maria Rilke. Immense thanks to Callum James for the beta.  


* * *

"Oof!" Harry exclaimed as the wrenching hook feeling of the international portkey flung him free to the ground. He stumbled forward, managing not to fall to his knees, though in righting himself he bashed his elbow into a fence with a volley of colourful invectives.

"Bloody portkeys," he mumbled as he rubbed at the throbbing joint. He brushed himself down, making certain he still had everything on him, albeit in a miniaturised form: duffle-bag, broom, two letters, a bottle of Bitter Banshee. "Maybe I can take the train back. Or fly."

He adjusted his glasses, pulling his overcoat more closely around him. A brisk wind was trying to pry its chilly fingers under his collar; the sky, grey and sullen, felt oppressive and heavy. A pungent scent of sulpher and smoke registered in his nose, which wrinkled involuntarily. On the other side of the high wooden fence, the very heart of the earth seemed to be beating, a low, roiling and irregular sound. A trill of delicious fear prickled down his spine. He'd been close to dragons before, but not this many, and not for several years.

There was a gate in the fence and as Harry approached it was opened by an elfin-looking young wizard with a riot of brown dreadlocks. Harry launched into an explanation of who he was, that he was expected, that Charlie had said—

"We know!" the wizard said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "The dragon reserve isn't that huge a place. Come on in. I'm Pavel, nice to meet you."

Harry shook hands with him, noting the lack of burn marks and calluses as he did so. "Harry."

"So you said." There was a teasing smirk on his face, softened by the genuine humour in his brown eyes. "Charlie's out with one of the Snegbogs, should be back by dinner. I'd be happy to show you around a bit, and to Charlie's hut. He has a spare room, or bed, or something. We don't have guests all that often, but he'd said you wouldn't mind staying with him, right?"

Through Pavel's easygoing prattle, Harry had been fruitlessly trying to place his accent. Not that it mattered; there would be witches and wizards here from all over Europe, perhaps. All at once he realised he'd been asked a question.

"Oh, no, that's splendid," he enthused, hoping he didn't sound like a total berk. He didn't know Charlie all that well, really, but Charlie had been amenable to Harry's request to visit for this particular act of friendship. And he was easy on the eyes, from what Harry remembered…

"Excellent. We'll go to his place, you can drop off your luggage, and I'll walk you around the key parts of the reserve. Sound good?"

"Sure."

Acrid scents duelled for dominance in the air. A gust of wind made Harry's eyes water and he wiped under his nose. They were walking down a dirt track; a set of one-storey efficient looking buildings huddled together over the crest of a low hill. Harry realised with the disorientation of Portkey travel and a string of late nights that he'd lost some of his usual politesse.

"So what do you do here?" he asked, trying to rectify the situation.

"I'm an archivist, mostly," Pavel said, his fuzzy corkscrews tossed by the wind like a cluster of puss willows. "Somebody's got to keep up with all of the research and evaluations that go on, and the blokes that love the dragons, they just want to be with them, not write about it, if that makes sense."

"Oh sure, it does."

Pavel led them to a nondescript, utilitarian dwelling that seemed to have a cement or plaster exterior.

"A few people live on their own, like Charlie," the archivist explained as they approached the door. "There's also some group houses; the whole reserve is pretty much a commune, as you can imagine. Oh."

Harry saw the faint shimmer as Pavel stretched out his hand toward the metal door handle. "Wards?" he asked.

"Yeah. We don't usually take those kinds of precautions. Oh well. I'll give you the tour then, and you can put your things in the office."

"That's fine," Harry said, letting out a soft sigh of relief. He'd not felt all that comfortable just wandering into Charlie's rooms when he wasn't there, it seemed presumptuous. "Probably for the best— I don't know how I'd feel if I found somebody's things in my house if I hadn't been there."

Pavel gave him a lop-sided grin that reminded Harry of Ron, and his spirits sank for a moment. "We're a pretty tight-knit group, and not formal. But I know what you mean."

A teeth-rattling boom thundered in the distance. Harry whipped his head around as it was followed by a blood curdling, screeching wail eventually snatched away by the wind.

"That's Bella. Welsh green," Pavel said, nonchalant. "She decided to pick a fight with one of the ridgebacks and the gash to her foreleg got infected. She's not a very good patient."

Harry's heart slowly regained a normal beat. "I see."

"You get used to it," Pavel said warmly, steering Harry off onto a different trail toward a copse of fir trees that sheltered a long, slate-coloured building.

Harry spent the next couple of hours at Pavel's side, going all over the grounds and seeing a few dragons that were in on-site pens. He met a dozen or so people on the staff, who all welcomed him but continued about their business, much to Harry's relief. He was novel because he was a visitor, not because he was Harry Potter. At six o'clock Pavel escorted Harry into the dining hall. The fare was hearty and savoury with herbs. He'd just tucked into his meal when he heard Charlie's distinctive laugh, mellow and playful, a drizzled honey sound.

"Your host!" Pavel said brightly, spearing a vivid purple wedge of beetroot onto his fork.

"Family friend," Harry clarified, feeling ridiculously grateful when Charlie caught his eye, smiled widely, and mouthed the words, _"I'll be right over."_

"You're here to do a bit of research?" Pavel asked, the intrigue apparent in his voice.

"Sort of," Harry hedged, uncertain what Charlie might have told the other staff. "I'm here to help out a former classmate, in a roundabout way."

"Harry! Great to see you," Charlie enthused as he sat down to Harry's right. The mingled scents of sweat, leather and antiseptic hung around him like an aura, but Harry found it compelling in a way that made heat flare inappropriately in his groin. It was sudden, and disconcerting.

"Same here." Harry felt a lightness in his chest at the sight of the familiar face, the shock of russet hair, darker than Ron's and obviously wind-blown.

"Pavel's shown you the lay of the land, I assume?" Charlie asked, digging into his own meal with gusto. "Sorry I wasn't here— had to deal with the Snegbog."

"No worries," Harry said hurriedly, wondering why his libido had decided that now was the moment to come roaring back to life, and hoping it would pass. "Thanks for letting me visit. I'll tell you more later, if that's okay."

Charlie nodded, a more serious expression passing over his rugged features. "Yeah. So sorry to hear about Dean."

The meal continued on with Charlie, Pavel and two other dragon handlers discussing the day's events. Harry was content to listen, absorbing the jargon and their evident camaraderie. The heady waves of testosterone didn't abate, however; he'd not felt such a pressing need for a wank in ages.

_Get a grip,_ he admonished his slowly awakening cock. _Not now._ The lilt in Charlie's voice and enticing meatiness to his fingers didn't help things; recognising that Charlie surely saw him as nothing other than Ron's friend and bringer of Voldemort's downfall proved enough for Harry to finish out the meal without embarrassment.

"Let's get your things and get you settled in," Charlie said once they'd both finished their meals.

"All right." Harry followed Charlie's lead as they took their trays and sorted the bowls and utensils into their respective piles near the kitchen.

"We alternate cleaning duty," Charlie explained as they headed to the office. "Dragons are sensitive to magic, so we don't use spells for every little thing."

"Are some spells banned?" Harry hadn't been taught much of anything about dragons and what might set them off.

"No, not really. Healing spells we use all the time." Charlie's wide, engaging smile re-lit the attraction Harry had felt earlier, charging him with both excitement and nervousness. He smiled back, glad for his overcoat, though he wished the wind would die down a bit.

Once at Charlie's hut, Harry gave Charlie the two letters Molly had given him to deliver as well as the bottle of Bitter Banshee from Seamus.

"Brilliant!" Charlie exclaimed, striding to his intimate kitchen and returning with two small glasses. "Have you ever had this? It's smoother than firewhiskey, but more potent," he said, pouring them each a shot of the alarming green liquor.

Harry nodded, his mouth twisted to the side. "It's not my favourite. Had a couple of bad experiences with it, but it's okay."

Charlie gave him a sympathetic look as he handed Harry the glass. "One toast," he suggested, "and we can take a few lagers with us to the sauna. Not this." He stood close, the leather and musk scent enveloping Harry in an erotic fog.

" _Noroc!_ " Charlie declared with a grin. "Romanian for 'cheers.'"

Harry clinked his glass with enthusiasm and tossed back the alcohol. He had to hand it to Seamus, who'd developed the beverage and was now quite wealthy; it _was_ potent, but didn't burn like so many strong liquors. Unfortunately, it also tended to cause Harry to speak his mind and heart, with his inner censor tied up and gagged. That wasn't at all a pleasant experience once sober, so he placed his empty glass purposefully on a low coffee table to indicate he really didn't want any more. Just at that moment, Charlie's plans for them registered in Harry's awareness.

"Sauna?" he asked, his overactive imagination suddenly filled with a conflicting attraction and revulsion to the idea of being surrounded by near-naked, sweating wizards — and witches? — at the reserve.

"Yeah." Charlie's expression became beatific. "I went ahead and started the fire in it before dinner. It's such a great place to relax, and sweat out your troubles. Have you ever been in one?"

"How many people will be there?" Harry asked in way of an answer. He wasn't prudish, but neither was he really comfortable lounging naked with a bunch of strangers, even if he was in another country.

"Oh, just us," Charlie reassured him. He retrieved four bottles of beer out of a small fridge and rummaged through a lower cabinet to find a hamper to carry them in. "There are towels there, and it's not that far from here."

"Is Apparition one of those spells that sets off the dragons?" Harry asked, re-buttoning his coat and focussing on anything other than the fact that Charlie would soon be displaying himself. Maybe Harry could lie down on his stomach, should need arise…

"It's one we try to keep to a minimum," Charlie said agreeably. "Why don't you fill me in on what happened to Dean while we walk over?"

The profound trauma Dean Thomas had suffered wasn't a pleasant topic to discuss, but it was, after all, the reason why Harry had made the trip to Romania. A booming cry rolled down from a distant hill and Harry gave Charlie a quizzical look. "Can you tell them apart by their voices?"

"Sometimes. I'll take you around to the more sociable blokes in the next couple of days. So what herb do you need to find for the wolfsbane?"

As they walked on the gravel path, Harry explained how Dean had been painting in the Czech republic and was attacked by a werewolf, losing his wand in the process. He'd been mauled, but it got worse; he'd wandered for a bit, unable to find any magical communities, and suffered through a full moon. He'd attacked several Muggles until he was captured and held prisoner for three months. Seamus Finnegan had roused the Ministry when he'd stopped receiving any correspondence from his best mate, and thankfully the Aurors had been able to find him. Ron was a Healer at St. Mungo's and had been on duty when Dean had been brought in; he'd still looked shaken up when he told Harry what had happened.

"Dean's living with Ron now," Harry said, forcing away the pang of jealousy. He and Charlie by now were at the sauna in a changing area, beginning to strip down. The speed with which Charlie's muscular body was being revealed gave Harry a welcome distraction to his uncomfortable feelings.

"Oh. He's convalescing with Ron? Hmmmm," Charlie said under his breath, peeling his leather trousers down his strong legs. Harry couldn't help but allow himself to marvel at Charlie's physique even as he stepped out of his own jeans and reached for a green towel off the top of a stack on a cabinet.

"Nothing against Dean, and it's really unfair what happened," Charlie said as he pulled open the door to the sauna, "but I don't know that Ron's the best person for him to stay with."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that because he felt the same way. He arranged his towel on one of the wooden ledges, leaning back against the wall and breathing deeply. The room was hot and dry, the heat burning in his nostrils. Sweat broke out on his forehead and arms.

"How do you feel about pine?" Charlie asked, handing Harry an opened beer.

He took a long pull on it, trying surreptitiously to evaluate if Charlie was mildly aroused or well endowed. "Pine? Great, I guess."

Charlie nodded, giving himself a quick once-over before smiling at Harry. Chagrined, Harry realised he must not have been as discreet as he'd thought. Charlie turned to a small row of phials and pulled one down. He ladled a spoonful of water before shaking several drops of the scented oil into it and then poured it on the pile of rocks. A long sustained hiss sounded in the room while Charlie ladled several spoonfuls, filling the small room with steam. Before Harry's glasses steamed up, he'd drunk his fill of Charlie's muscular back and squarish arse, though it was the large dragon tattoo resting at the base of his spine which ensnared Harry's gaze. Charlie clambered up next to him, spreading out his towel and leaning against the adjoining wall, sitting cross-legged. Harry felt a heat coursing all through him that had nothing to do with the fire-heated rocks and steam. Unfortunately he couldn't see through his glasses. Out of necessity he'd gotten quite good at wandless spells to do with his glasses, including basic repair and de-fogging.

_Then again,_ a clever and randy voice in his head spoke up, _if you don't have them on you'll have good reason to get closer to him to ask to see the tattoo._ Taking another long couple of swallows of the ale, Harry decided to throw caution to the wind and heed this newly emerged aspect of himself. His glasses were totally steamed up and functionally useless, so he laid them to his left on the seat.

"Not so handy in a sauna," he said apologetically, pretty sure that Charlie smiled in response. "Your tattoo," he went on, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead to keep the stinging sweat from his eyes. "Is there a story that goes with it? If you don't mind me asking," he added hurriedly.

Harry couldn't really tell the exact expression on Charlie's face anymore, but he seemed to radiate a brazen pride.

"Well, not much of a story," Charlie said, his voice edged with a huskiness Harry was pretty certain hadn't been there before. "I love dragons; it seemed only natural. Got it in a place Mum probably wouldn't see, though I'm an adult and it really shouldn't matter. It _does_ have a quality to it, though, that reveals a bit more about me, depending on the situation." He paused, wiping the bottle across his forehead before taking a swig. "Like now."

In the ensuing silence, Harry squinted his eyes. He thought he saw a movement of colour at Charlie's hip, and leaned in slightly, but couldn't be sure of anything, least of all what Charlie was talking about.

"Oh. You can't really see, can you?" Charlie's tone was a heady mix of disappointed and provocative.

"No," Harry admitted.

"Well…" Charlie cleared his throat. "Merlin. You're an adult, too. If I'm attracted to someone, it comes to life, kindof. His tail moves around, and whether it's pointing to front or back, cock or arse, it shows what I'm most in the mood for. You did know I'm into women and blokes, right?"

Harry's heart thudded against his ribs, the blood rushing to his now-interested cock. He was done trying to hide his attraction; at this point he wasn't above a pity fuck.

"No, I didn't," Harry said, mortified when his voice cracked. He, too, cleared his throat. "Is the tail moving? I can't see details from here without my glasses."

Charlie slowly edged away from the wall and despite his atrocious vision, Harry could tell Charlie was beginning to sport an impressive erection. He turned and scooted so that he was nearly thigh-to-thigh with Harry.

"He is," Charlie rumbled. "I hope I don't sound like I'm full of bloody awful chat-up lines, but I think you're sexy as hell. Vespertine's tail is flicking from front to back." He made a strangled laugh that went straight to Harry's arousal. "I'm probably not your type at all, but I'll risk being blunt. I'd shag you in a heartbeat. Well, actually I'd love you to shag me. If that sounded at all appealing."

Harry grew even harder at Charlie's confession. "Yeah, actually, it does," he said, gesturing at his crotch. "I don't know that I have a type, really, but I think I've been half-hard since I heard your voice at the cafeteria."

"Oh, Harry. You have no idea of the effect you have on people, do you?" Charlie said, his voice ragged with need.

"I guess not!"

Harry let his hand drift down the indents of muscle on Charlie's bicep as Charlie moved to kneel between Harry's legs on a lower level of wooden planks. The thick, callused fingers started at the sensitive sweat-slicked skin inside Harry's knees and pressed upward until his thumbs were making slow circles on Harry's heavy bollocks.

"May I?" Charlie asked, his lips mere inches from the top of Harry's straining cock.

"Fuck, yes," Harry breathed before Charlie's tongue swirled around the crown. "Oh Merlin," Harry groaned as Charlie took him in further, sucking and bobbing his head. Charlie made contented humming sounds as he slurped with enthusiasm, Harry bucking his hips when Charlie flicked his tongue around the foreskin. "Fuck, Charlie, you're amazing." Harry anchored himself with one hand gripping the wooden bench, the other massaging Charlie's scalp, damp with sweat.

Charlie eased back on his heels, releasing Harry's hard shaft with a wet, smacking sound. Even without his glasses, Harry could tell that Charlie felt quite pleased with himself and glowed with both the heat of the sauna and sheer pleasure.

"I've not had this kind of opportunity in a while," Charlie said throatily, one hand continuing to wank Harry while he wiped at his mouth with the other. "And you taste so good. Tangy. I'm going to suck you until you come. You can be as loud as you want."

"Holy fuck."

Harry spread his legs even further apart as Charlie's hot, wet mouth enveloped his cock again. Charlie was relentless now, head bobbing up and down, creating tight suction and then flicking his tongue around the slit at the top; it was a near-excruciatingly sensitive area on Harry's prick.

"God, Charlie, I'm—" Harry panted, the tightly-wound tension causing his sac to draw up, a tingling from behind his knees that rolled up to the base of his cock before his release pulsed out of him as Harry let out a wild shout. He choked out a few harsh cries as his shaft jerked with the aftershocks. Charlie continued to lap at him until Harry gasped, "Too much! Oh, so fucking good."

Charlie daubed at his lips with Harry's towel, drops of sweat falling on Harry's own glistening thighs as he sat back down next to Harry with a satisfied sigh. Harry was still trying to catch his breath, not the easiest thing to do in the steamy atmosphere of the sauna. Charlie reached out for his lager and finished it. A bit guiltily, Harry let his fingers find their way to Charlie's groin, encircling the wide, jutting cock above its dense thatch of auburn hair.

"Do you want me to do that for you?" he asked, relishing the feel of the heated shaft in his hand, of soft skin over steely muscle.

"Maybe before you leave," Charlie said with a groan as Harry smeared some sticky pre-come around the rosy head. "I say let's go back to my rooms, get a fire going, and we can shag until we're exhausted."

"You have quite a way with words," Harry said smiling, sliding his hand up and down Charlie's thick cock. "Sounds brilliant."

"You'll need to let me go just for a bit," Charlie said with a chuckle as he pried off Harry's fingers. "Trust me— I don't want you to stop, but my bed is far more comfortable than this wood."

"This has been pretty memorable," Harry commented as he put on his glasses. He wiped off the steam and was able to see Charlie's muscled arse for a few seconds with clarity before his glasses fogged up again. The promise of impending sex with a willing, passionate partner who wasn't in it for hero worship encouraged Harry to get ready and back to the hut as quickly as possible. Even the brisk wind and Harry's chilled ears didn't bother him as much. Charlie made a little small talk about keeping personal lives personal at an enclave like the reserve, and then they were back at his small residence. Soon a cheery fire was going in Charlie's room and some candles had been lit.

"I'm just going to brush my teeth," Harry called out, rummaging through his now properly sized rucksack. He couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to be buried in Charlie's body, so even as he cleaned his teeth he felt his cock stirring back to life. In the mirror, he saw Charlie amble in behind him, a predatory look emblazoned on his features.

"Are you always this dedicated to dental hygiene?" Charlie joked, the words murmured with heated breath into Harry's ear as he rubbed his aroused body up behind Harry.

"No, but it'd been a long day and as much as I'm looking forward to the sex — and I am—" he said, leaning back against the strong chest and feeling Charlie's erection press insistently against his lower back, "I reckon you're a great kisser. I'd like to find out, and I'd like not to have the breath of day-old tea followed by Romanian meat pie, Bitter Banshee and ale."

Charlie's wide fingers skated up Harry's torso to his nipples, puckered and standing up from his chest. He pinched them, but not enough to hurt.

"Then I should take care of mine," Charlie said amicably. "Seems as though it'd be unfair for you to be all minty fresh and me not."

"I'd kiss you anyway," Harry said, breathless, tossing back a small cupful of water, rinsing and spitting it out in seconds before turning in Charlie's embrace. Charlie reached out an arm and silently _Accio_ 'ed his wand which he pointed to his jaw and muttered a soft spell.

"C'mere," he said in a low voice that made the blood thunder down to Harry's erection.

Harry heard Charlie's wand clatter to the floor behind them and then there was cold air— Charlie had pulled away, but only to lead the way to his bedroom, a welcome, warm room after the chill of the bathroom. Harry shed the jeans he'd put back on so that they could be skin to skin again before taking off his glasses, placing them on a small table near a window covered by uncomplicated dark green drapes. Once again, he revelled in the fact that they were so similar in height, especially when Charlie cradled his jaw in his strong palms and pressed his mouth to Harry's. The kiss was bold and commanding; Harry moaned his acquiescence into Charlie's mouth. Their tongues slid and tried to burrow around each other as their kiss grew passionate; all the while, Harry rutted against Charlie, the lust from their kissing flowing molten to his cock, which had jolted fully upright. When Charlie took them both in hand, shafts pressed together with exquisite friction, Harry made needy noises and ground his fingers into the small of Charlie's back.

With a last possessive swipe across Harry's tongue, Charlie leaned back, breathing heavily. "Lube's on the bedside table, there," he said, tilting his head to the side. "Get yourself ready. I'll watch."

A bit stunned, Harry plodded over to the table, finding the phial and pouring some of the unguent into his palm. Charlie plumped up pillows and then sat up against the headboard, his feet planted on the bed and wanking himself unabashedly. Harry pressed his hands together and then slicked his very hard cock. Once he'd deemed himself ready, he crawled up on the bed. Charlie got onto his hands and knees, totally at ease with himself, or at least that was how it seemed to Harry. Faced with the undeniable realness of what Charlie wanted, and a very appealing backside, Harry sat back on his heels. He reached out with a glistening finger, tracing the puckered opening and squinting to see exactly what hints Vespertine might give him.

"Just your cock," Charlie said roughly, shifting backward and then placing his hands on the headboard. "That's what I want. You won't hurt me, I swear."

"If you're sure…"

Harry had never in a million years expected to hear the words 'just your cock' from the mouth of Charlie Weasley. Much less directed at him, and with such obvious gusto.

Charlie looked over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his face.

"Quite."

His enthusiasm spurred Harry into action. He took himself in hand and rubbed up and down the cleft, then pressed into the tight opening, letting out a gasp once he was in the furnace of Charlie's body.

"Fuck, yeah," Charlie incanted as Harry pushed all the way in. Harry held onto Charlie's hips, sliding slowly backward and then easing back into the clenching channel.

"I won't break. Promise," Charlie said, his voice cracking. "Just fuck me."

With those words, some dam of inhibition broke in Harry, and he let his body hold sway. He ploughed into Charlie again and again like waves against a beach, the slapping of his bollocks against the pale skin and Charlie's profane encouragements melding together into an erotic haze he never wanted to end. He took up a punishing pace, which only increased Charlie's vocal affirmations until suddenly he said, "Harry. Mind if we change positions?"

Harry slowed his frantic hip thrusts. "No! Um…"

"Pull out for just a minute."

Harry did, sitting back again on his heels and wishing he felt far more suave than he did at that moment, naked and hard and all of his attentions focussed on how to make Charlie feel he hadn't made a horrible mistake. There was a shifting of limbs and then Charlie was on his side, one leg pulled up, the inviting, freckled arse even more on display than before. He smiled warmly at Harry, gesturing to him and taking Harry's hand so that he had to spoon behind Charlie, the implications obvious.

"You can be deeper that way," Charlie crooned, taking Harry's hand and beginning to lick at his fingers.

"Fuck," Harry muttered.

"I'd rather not beg…"

Harry stifled his laugh into Charlie's shoulder blade, guiding his prick back into the grasping muscle and returning to the business of enjoying a really passionate shag. Charlie was quite verbal, though the words tended toward the monosyllabic. Harry became even more turned on, knowing how much Charlie enjoyed being taken by him. Charlie grabbed at Harry's hand, smearing some of the lubricant onto his own fingers before wanking himself in earnest. Harry stretched out his leg, changing his angle, and Charlie let out a low howl of pleasure. Newly aware of his power, Harry fucked Charlie in earnest, though he knew he couldn't last much longer himself.

"Fuck, Harry, fuck, fuck, yes—"

Charlie's muscles spasmed around Harry's cock as Charlie came, crying out a gravelly exaltation. Harry's reserves snapped; he tried in vain to count down the number of thrusts before his own orgasm, giving himself seven but Charlie gave a last squeeze and Harry was lost at the count of three. He squinched his eyes shut as his body was wracked with his release; phantom stars exploded behind his eyelids and his cock throbbed deep inside Charlie's body. After he came back to himself, Harry let out a deep breath and he draped his arm over Charlie's wide rib cage. They rested there for a time until Charlie murmured something about cleaning up. He uncoupled them and eased off of the bed. Gingerly he padded over to his wand and cast a _Terego_ on both of them before trying to create some order out of the shambles they'd made of the bedcoverings.

" _Accio_ Bitter Banshee and two tumblers," he said, his wand aimed at the kitchen. The items in question obligingly placed themselves on the bedside table before Charlie poured two servings. He held one out to Harry, who'd retrieved a rogue pillow from the floor and was leaning against it.

"Sure," he said gamely. It wasn't as though he was afraid he'd say something about Charlie he'd held locked in his heart; he was still a bit in shock that they'd been so compatible, but he hoped that that didn't mean he'd say something ludicrous.

Charlie tossed back his shot, but Harry could only take one swallow at a time. After he'd placed the glass back on the table, Charlie turned his head and gave Harry a look that seemed to set tiny flames alight behind Harry's knees. Nobody had ever done this to him; it wasn't love, and it wasn't purely lust, either. Harry swallowed.

"You're thinking too much," Charlie said, twisting his lips to the side, but he softened the criticism by laying his hand on the thin muscle above Harry's knee. "This may be too much double entendre, but I'll go ahead and put it out there. Humour me, okay?"

His earnestness outweighed the newly singing chorus of _you just shagged Ron's brother_ , which had rather annoyingly decided to lodge themselves in his head. Thankfully they slunk away.

"Okay."

"Thanks." Charlie leaned over and gave Harry a purposeful, slow, and achingly erotic kiss before slumping back against the headboard. "I'm not exactly one for relationships, or ones that, say, Mum understands. Or anyone else. That said, while your circumstances for being here aren't the best, let's just say that you have honorary dragon rider status for a particular, not exactly tamed dragon. Who doesn't have a cage."

Harry tapped his middle finger against the thick glass of his tumbler. It occurred to him that his whole life was something that most people didn't understand, and this invitation shouldn't be immediately shelved. Charlie and Ron were two very different people who happened to be related, and Harry had different affections for them.

"I'm not exactly an accomplished dragon rider," Harry said, half-hoping that Charlie would jump to his defence, but he ended up feeling more grateful that Charlie waited to see what else he would say. "I suspect that as time goes on, I may be here several times over the next few months. And I'd really appreciate being able to stay with you."

The dimple in Charlie's right cheek caught the firelight, cheery and uncomplicated. "It'd be my pleasure."

Feeling bold, Harry stretched out his left hand and intertwined their fingers.

"I hope the pleasure is mutual."

Charlie let out a feigned sigh. "Well, if I have to shag _that_ into you…"

Harry scraped a well-bitten fingernail across Charlie's palm. "We've not done that, yet," he said with mock-seriousness.

Shaking his head, Charlie took his left hand and eased away the creases above his brows. "There's a reason why Muggles of the ancient world wrote 'here there be dragons' on maps, you know," he murmured before pinning Harry to the bed. Harry basked in Charlie's feral look, beginning to move his hips just slightly from side to side.

"I'm sure you can show me."


End file.
